en to
shower down vengeance on the Murderers of her gracious Prince. She had
not heard from her betrothed for many days, and those who loved and
watched her had marked a strange wild way with her.

It was on the fourth of February that the dreadful news of the Whitehall
tragedy came to her father's house. She was walking on the next day very
moodily in the garden, when the figure of one booted and spurred, and
with the stains of many days' travel on his dress, stood across her
path. He was but a clown, a mere boor; he had been a ploughboy on her
father's lands, and had run away to join Captain Richard, who had made
him a trumpeter in his troop. What he had to say was told in clumsy
speech, in hasty broken accents, with sighs and stammerings and
blubberings; but he told his tale too well.

The Lord Francis V----s and Captain Richard Greenville--Arabella's
lover, Arabella's brother--were both Dead. On the eve of the fatal
thirtieth of January they had been taken captives in a tilt-boat on the
Thames, in which they were endeavouring to escape down the river. They
had at once been tried by a court-martial of rebel officers; and on the
thirtieth day of that black month, by express order sent from the Lord
General Cromwell in London, these two gallant and unfortunate gentlemen
had been shot to death by a file of musketeers in the courtyard of
Hampton Court Palace. The trumpeter had by a marvel escaped, and lurked
about Hampton till the dreadful deed was over. He had sought out the
sergeant of the firing party, and questioned him as to the last moments
of the condemned. The sergeant said that they died as Malignants, and
without showing any sign of Penitence; but he could not gainsay that
their bearing was soldier-like.

Arabella heard this tale without moving.

"Did the Captain--did my brother--say aught before they slew him?" she
asked.

"Nowt but this, my lady: 'God forgive us all!'"

"And the Lord Francis, said he aught?"

"Ay; but I dunno loike to tell."

"Say on."

"'Twas t' Sergeant tould un. A' blessed the King, and woud hev' t'
souldiers drink 's health, but they wouldno'. And a' wouldno' let un
bandage uns eyes; an' jest befwoar t' red cwoats foired, a' touk a long
lock o' leddy's hair from 's pocket and kissed un, and cried out 'Bloud
for Bloud!' and then a' died all straight along."

Mrs. Arabella Greenville drew from her bosom a long wavy lock of silken
hair,--his hair, poor boy!--and kissed it, and c